The black and white taxi abruptly stopped at Bourbon Street for careless pedestrians moving towards the music. The street was clogged with stands, musicians, and crowds. It was early in the afternoon, yet she could spot cocktails and beers in many hands as people reveled. The impassable road made her pay her fair, leaving the car where she was. Clutching her luggage tightly, she slid across the back seat and exited the taxi. The roaring street was in great contrast to her last destination. Anticipating the multitude of things to do, she only managed to fight the crowd long enough to get to a café after being fatigued and emaciated.

After a short meal, she continued down the street for as long as she could tolerate it. Strangers continually shouldered her amongst the throng, and her dragging bag was kicked, snagged, or knocked off its wheels. She caught her balance on a gaudy, thin metal column at the edge of the sidewalk lining apartments. Breathless, she ripped open her bag and grabbed a small lunch box. It produced a solid white vial that she immediately washed down and cringed at the heavy metallic taste. As she reoriented herself and secured her bag, she looked up and noticed the grand balcony across the street. The balcony lined a long brick building forming a significant part of its block. The black ornate rails had gold detailing and blooming flowers from built in boxes. The balcony was cut in long segments with ceiling-high arched windows framed by dark cyan shutters. The residence seemed to be well cared for but appeared indescribably lonely and tainted.

She moved her way down that street and others. The presence of witches was described to her in the letters. She was anxious to see that a voodoo shop was so near her hotel room. Her urgency to find him increased with this idea. Leaving her bag on her bed she left to venture the city. One of the quieter streets was her first stop. Painters of different mediums and some sketch artists surrounded her. All of them were creating caricatures for the multitude of tourists.

As the sun began to set, she saw the idiocy of wandering the streets in the hope of spotting him. Her phone was trying to map the quickest way back to her room. She was disappointed that her only options were through mobs or shop alleys. She turned towards the music and stopped when something felt uneasy behind her. Unable to resist, she wandered towards the sensation.

The air was pulsating as if the building in the distance was breathing in frenzy. She followed the air as it guided her to an old, unkempt church. You could see it was lit within and calm. It was the most tranquil place she had come across. He would have no reason being in a holy building, but like him; the building carried his air of graceful tension, a feeling of timelessness, and calmed pain.

At the door, she could hear many faint, indistinct voices. She hesitated to turn the doorknob at the sound of approaching footsteps from within. Hesitant of a confrontation, she slowly backed towards the side of the building. The door opened quickly and she froze as the person remained out of her line of sight. She tried to relax by closing her eyes with shallow breaths and wished for the chance to leave. Her eyes shot open when a man cleared his throat. His lips were curled in an awkward smile. He rolled back and forth on his heels as he slowly raised his eyebrows. They were both unsure of what to say.

"Are you looking for something?" His voice was stern and adverse.

"I was looking- Um. I'm just going to, um-" She couldn't think of a logical explanation for being there.

"It's uncommon for tourists to wander here. I advise you to go back," he continued.

"I was looking for my friend who told me he lived in the area. I don't know where and that's when I stumbled upon this church that… oddly... made me think of him. Are you, by chance, familiar with many of residents of this city? He isn't easy to forget," she said.

"I might. What's his name?" he replied keenly.

"Elijah. Elijah Mikaelson," The name rolled off her tongue easier than she originally expected. When the man heard the name, the familiarity registered on his face. "Oh, you know him. Do you know where he is? I hadn't a clue where to start looking."

"He's not here," he exhaled sharply and started to turn towards the door.

"Wait; do you know where he went? I'm only here because I think something's wrong"

He laughed indignantly. When he turned he looked oddly amused by something.

"It was a good thing that this city was rid of his family," he spat.

"I don't understand. I never knew him to be… problematic in any way. What happened here?" she insisted stepping toward him.

The man's back stiffened and his dark eyes scanned over her. Swiftly he turned back towards the church with a deep breath. He seemed to take in the view of the worn doors and sporadic new wood contrasting the ornate designs of the original material. The silence made her wondered if she would get a response. The man's cold appearance dissolved into something else in this pause.

"Follow me." The man finally said with his back still to her. He advanced and peeled the doors open.

She eagerly obliged and was surprised to see so many people gathered here when the city was so vivacious elsewhere. The church was lit in various ways. There were some candles and few ceiling lights in use. Everyone spoke in low voices and did not turn when the doors creaked open. All were entranced by the hushed atmosphere. Only a few paces in, the man spun back and startled her.

"This is St. Anne's church. Like those here, this place's been stuck in conflict. The problems started when the Michaelson's first were here. These people can enlighten you on your friend."

"Um, I'm Katrina," she interjected awkwardly before he turned away.

"Vincent." His response was quick. He gave a riled grin before going to the closest set of people in chairs.

Her gaze lingered on him as he transformed into a light posture, kneeling next to a man and a woman. His eyes benign as the couple spoke. She began moving towards the front and understood what Vincent had said. Like the door, it was clear that there was damage to the building and it hardly looked like a church at all. The altar had no decoration and could only be identified by the steps leading to the platform and its position was the center of the room and housed a table with candles. The paint on the walls was chipped and faded in some places and there were no pictures hung while some leaned against the walls on the floor. The rounded arches and the detailed wood managed to remain unscathed. There were a few small tables that held people's belongings, food, and water. The rest of the furniture was a small set of pews and mostly mix-match chairs scattered in different groups. People have gathered in circles all around. Everyone seemed calm and patient as they took turns speaking. Katrina inched her way towards a group to join. She approached until the voices were loud enough for her to hear their conversation. The first thing that alarmed her was the gruesome depiction the woman gave to her audience and then she mentioned the Other Side. Katrina's eyes widened. She thought back to the many conversations she had with Elijah as he explained to her the reality of magic. The Other Side was most intriguing to her. She marveled at the casualness of the conversation.

She began moving towards the front and understood what Vincent had said. Like the door, it was clear that there was damage to the building and it hardly looked like a church at all. The altar had no decoration and could only be identified by the steps leading to the platform and its position was the center of the room and housed a table with candles. The paint on the walls was chipped and faded in some places. There were no pictures hung while some leaned against the walls on the floor. The rounded arches and the detailed wood managed to remain unscathed. There were a few small tables that held people's belongings, food, and water. The rest of the furniture was a small set of pews and mostly mix-match chairs scattered in different groups. People have gathered in circles all around. Everyone seemed calm and patient as they took turns speaking. Katrina inched her way towards a group to join. She approached until the voices were loud enough for her to hear their conversation. The first thing that alarmed her was the gruesome depiction the woman gave to her audience and then she mentioned the Other Side. Katrina's eyes widened. She thought back to the many conversations she had with Elijah as he explained to her the reality of magic. The Other Side was most intriguing to her. She marveled at the casualness of the conversation.

Katrina was taken aback when a man came away from the grieving woman's words and stared straight at her. She had only then realized that she had thought aloud. The group looked at her in silence and it brought the attention of another group nearby.

"I didn't mean to interrupt. Vincent let me in," she attempted to say calmly.

The woman looked at Katrina with a tear stained face and simply pointed to an empty chair off to the side. Immediately, Katrina grabbed the folding chair and placed it where the group had made room for her. The church resumed with its conversations. The feeling she had as she came toward the church came from the people gathered inside. Certainly, the other conversations revolved around magic and the people around her were part of the community that Elijah mentioned.

The woman continued to describe the pain she felt when she saw a mass of burnt bodies.

"I didn't really want her as Regent to begin with. Kara was right to not trust her," she sighed and forced a laugh, "I obviously haven't gotten over their deaths. For years, the covens haven't been united. There has always been some division, but Van was our last Regent, and now what are we gonna do?" The woman looked lost like the others in the group as they shared one another's grief.

"Marcel ran out the Originals. The last action of our Ancestors was creating him. The last few days have been calm. This is the time for us to resettle," stated the man to Katrina's left. The grouped seemed reassured by his words.

"Marcel made the Originals leave? Um, who is he?" Cutting into the silence made the group focus on Katrina, again. Her alienation was re-established by their looks of confusion and sneers. "I have met one of them before and surprised that someone could force that family out of here. Could you tell me how he did it?" She added.

"This place isn't for outsiders. Why'd you come?" scoffed the man to her left.

Gauging their demeanor she answered with sympathy, "I have unfinished business with them. Last I heard, they were here and this city was restless. Vincent told me I'd get the truth about them here." The man relaxed slightly when mentioning Vincent, but the tension was thick.

"Alex, I'll talk to her." The woman from before stood and placed a soft hand on his shoulder and eased him more. She silently led Katrina to an open pew and tried to straighten her hair and clothes as she sat down.

"I didn't mean to upset him," she apologizing and sank onto the wood.

"Alex was closest to our last Regent and leading his coven now. He hopes limiting our involvement with outsiders will helps us recover." She hung her head and played with her finger a moment. With a deep breath, she looked up with a warm smile. "You don't know what a Regent is, do you?"

"I guess that was your leader. I'm sorry he's gone," she comforted the witch. "I'm Katrina."

"Janie. And thanks. Um, you asked about Marcel?" she asked reluctantly.

"Yes, Alex said that your Ancestors created him. How did he drive them out?" Katrina pressed with increased volume that made Janie shift and look around.

"He was made into a vampire stronger than an Original. A few days ago, the city was filled with vampires storming the Mikaelson's home, where Marcel now lives, and took down Klaus. You know who he is, right?" Katrina nodded and insisted that she should continue, "All I know is that Klaus is now prisoner there and that the rest of his family disappeared." Janie finished and leaned back.

"They abandoned him?" Katrina whispered harshly.

"You almost sound concerned," Janie said skeptically.

"I just…" Katrina considered what would not provoke her, "didn't expect them to turn on him. They seemed... close when I met them." Katrina saw Janie's stern eyes and knew she wasn't convinced. Katrina dropped her head.

"When Klaus went down, his family was nowhere to be seen. But some had said that Marcel fought them in their mansion and that's when he ran them out. Marcel would be the best person to help you find them. But talking to him's a death wish these days."

"That doesn't matter. Where can I find Marcel?"

Author's Note:

Working on chapter two and hope to have it up before August 25.

Please leave critiques in reviews or PMs.